


The Sound of Music

by DebraHicks



Category: War of the Worlds (TV 1988)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26721721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks
Summary: A way to save the world from the aliens?  But how bad will the side effects be?
Kudos: 1





	The Sound of Music

"Colonel?" Harrison's voice sounded tinny over the intercom into Ironhorse's immaculate office. "I need you down here." 

There was an urgency in the deep voice that made Ironhorse spring up from his chair and sent him sprinting toward the door. Without knowing why he grabbed his gun and the small Geiger counter; in war there was no such thing as too careful. 

The elevator snapped open and he eased into the lab. The tall scientist was standing in the center of the room, with his hands behind his back. Something in his stance worried Ironhorse. The colonel stood his ground, sneakily turning on the counter. 

"I'm not an alien, Colonel," Harrison assured him. "Just excited." 

Confirming this fact with his readings Ironhorse moved closer, the excitement in the wild eyes reaching him. The right side of his mouth curved up. "What's going on, Harrison?" 

"I have a device that will stop the war." 

Ironhorse's smile faded. They had all been working hard lately and Harrison's grin was even crazier than normal, or what passed for normal for him. 

Harrison shook his head. "He doesn't believe me." 

The black eyes narrowed. "Harrison?" Was he talking to himself? 

"Colonel," Harrison said levelly. "This device was invented by Dr. Squawkencluck, a noted British scientist." 

Ironhorse groaned. Squawkencluck? He wished Norton were not in town, maybe he'd know what to do with Harrison. The only thing he could do was politely listen and humor the man while waiting to call the men with the funny coats. It was rubber room time. 

"Okay, Harrison," he said gently, "what does this thing do?" 

"Um, I'm not sure. All Da.. uh... the messenger said was that it would solve our alien problem." He looked at Ironhorse. "I'm not crazy, Paul. I just... I guess I should have gotten more information before I called you." 

"Okay, Harrison," Ironhorse found himself repeating, reaching a comforting hand toward the bigger man's shoulder. "Why don't we go upstairs and wait for Suzanne and Norton to get home?" 

"I say, Blackwood, you really have gone about this completely wrong." 

Ironhorse jumped, gun coming around from behind his back, trying to figure out where the voice had come from. There was sudden movement at the side of his vision. "Geez, it's a loose mou... se?" 

The mouse in question was very smartly dressed in white pants and white pullover, accented with a red belt and a tacky DM in a yellow circle on his left chest. He was standing on his back legs, had his arms crossed in front of him and wore a black eyepatch over his left eye. Before Ironhorse could even begin to think about what he was seeing the mouse was joined by a slightly shorter, definitely rounder figure in an ugly brown suit with large, round wire rimmed glasses. 

Harrison shoved Ironhorse's weapon effortlessly down. 

Confused ebony eyes looked up into amused gray-blue. "Harrison," he pleaded softly, "please tell me this is an exhaustion induced hallucination." 

Harrison smiled. "I thought Native Americans talked to animals." 

"Yes..." Ironhorse admitted. 

"And that they answered?" 

"Yes, but... damnit, not in British accents!" 

Putting an arm around Ironhorse's shoulders Harrison lead him to the nearest chair and pushed him down. He motioned toward the two on the table. 

"Lt. Colonel Paul Ironhorse, I'd like you to meet British agents Dangermouse and Penfold." 

Dangermouse came to attention. "Always pleased to meet a member of the army services, sir." 

He snapped a salute and before Ironhorse could stop himself his hand was half-way to his head in a similar move. He stopped, embarrassed and still dazed. "Harrison? What? How?" 

"It's a long story, Paul. For now let’s just say that DM and his organization have found a way to save the world. With this." He held out a small transmitter. 

"You're telling me a mouse and a hamster are going to save the world?" Ironhorse clarified. 

"It won't be the first time," DM informed him haughtily. 

Ironhorse stared. After a dream like this he was definitely going to talk to the nearest shrink or shaman, whichever he could find first. "What's this thing do?" 

"It emits," the mouse explained, "a high-pitched, wide band sound that we have determined kills the aliens almost instantly." 

"Cleared them all right out of England, it did!" Penfold started. "Not one left anywhere, just like St. Patrick and the snakes!" 

"Penfold..." DM started. 

"Wiped them off the map! Snuffed them..." 

"I say, Penfold, control yourself!" DM said firmly. 

"Sonics?" Harrison said thoughtfully. 

"Slim Whitman," DM supplied. 

"That would do it," Harrison agreed. 

"Just link it into your satellites and turn it on." 

"Poof!" Penfold said helpfully. 

"Poof?" Ironhorse questioned. 

"Poof," DM answered. 

"Poof!" Harrison agreed. "Alright! Let's do it." He started wiring the device into the computer link. 

"Ah, yes, well," DM started, "perhaps we should warn you about the side effects." 

Harrison stopped his wiring. Ironhorse looked at Harrison, Harrison looked at DM, Ironhorse looked at DM then back at Harrison who was looking at him. 

"Which are?" Ironhorse demanded in his best command voice. 

Penfold said, "Ghosts, ghouls, spooks, things that go..." 

"Penfold..." 

"... bump in the night, poltergeese, goblins..." 

"Penfold, do be quiet," DM sighed. "PK readings around the world could rise." 

Ironhorse's eyebrow went up. "You're telling me that Slim Whitman's singing could raise the dead." He kind of liked Slim Whitman. 

Harrison looked thoughtful; Ironhorse looked confused. "So, we can get rid of the aliens and risk ghosts or live with the aliens?" Harrison summarized. 

"Exactly," DM said firmly. 

Harrison pushed the button. 

"A wise decision, gentlemen." DM told them. "Good luck with the ghosts. Wouldn't think it near as bad as those obnoxious aliens. Maybe Dr. Squawkencluck can come up with something to help." He jumped off the back of the table, Penfold hesitated. 

"Crumbs! I hate when he does that. Show-off." He jumped. 

A moment later a small, bright red, flying car zoomed past the teammates, headed for the elevator shaft. 

"Tallyho. Off to stop more villains." DM waved back as they disappeared. 

"Do you think it worked?" Ironhorse was still waiting to wake up. 

His answer was an inhuman moan from somewhere in the house. 

Harrison pulled him out of the chair. "I hope Venkman doesn't have a patent on proton packs or this will cost us a fortune. Let's make a phone call, Colonel." 

"Who we gonna call?" Ironhorse questioned. 

Harrison only smiled.


End file.
